


It Could Be Me

by bcole4



Series: It Could Be Me [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Band Fic, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Drug Use, Love/Hate, M/M, fear of commitment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:45:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcole4/pseuds/bcole4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Nice to meet you. You’re Spencer’s boyfriend?”</p><p>“I’m not his boyfriend.” Brendon’s not anyone’s boyfriend.</p><p> </p><p>(In which Brendon and Ryan kind of hate each other... except when they really, really like each other.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Brendon meets Ryan is at one of Spencer’s parties. Brendon’s a little interested in Ryan, mostly because it’s very rare that Spencer knows someone that Brendon doesn’t know. So he watches Ryan make his rounds, introducing himself and laughing with people he knows, looking a little absurd in skin-tight black jeans and a well-worn maroon blazer.  
  
“He’s new in town. He’s trying to get a band going,” Spencer says next to Brendon, motioning to the skinny boy in the ridiculous clothing. “But he wants to front it, so it won’t be your scene.”  
  
“No, I don’t think it will be. He looks like a circus ringleader. He’s probably gonna start a bizarre band with accordions or some shit,” Brendon replies, sipping his PBR. To Brendon, bands aren’t good unless the lyrics are dark and the guitars are loud. And maybe there’s a little synth thrown in there. Otherwise, the band’s not worth joining. And it’s DEFINITELY not worth joining if Brendon’s not fronting it.  
  
Spencer shrugs. “You should still introduce yourself. Maybe he’ll give in, let you take the lead.”  
  
“I’m not that serious about joining a band. I’m not gonna beg.”  
  
“It’s _networking_ , Brendon.”  
  
Brendon just shrugs.  
  
Spencer huffs and leaves Brendon’s side to say hi to Ryan. Brendon stays on the wall, not interested in making new friends. He came tonight hoping that he could stay over at Spencer’s, maybe fool around with him a little bit like they usually do after ragers like this. He isn’t in the mood to party with kids he didn’t like in high school and still doesn’t like now that they’ve just graduated. He looks at the clock. It’s 11. Spencer usually kicks people out at around 1. Only two hours. He drinks more of his PBR. He’s gonna need all he can get.  
  
He briefly entertains a few girls who pass by and try to flirt with him. Then Ryan saunters (doesn’t walk, literally fucking _saunters_ ) over to introduce himself.  
  
“Hi, I’m Ryan!” He’s too loud. He’d be a valley girl if he wasn’t a guy.  
  
“I know,” Brendon says, just loud enough to be heard over the music. He doesn’t look at Ryan at all, instead looking around him at Spencer, who looks so great in those jeans.  
  
“And you are…?”  
  
“Brendon.”  
  
“Nice to meet you. You’re Spencer’s boyfriend?”  
  
“I’m not his boyfriend.” Brendon’s not anyone’s boyfriend.  
  
“Well, you should probably get that cleared up with him,” Ryan says, his voice a little sharper than Brendon expects. Actually, Brendon is surprised by everything about Ryan. Normally, Brendon’s really good at being cold enough to scare people off. But Ryan doesn’t even sound uncomfortable. He’s matching Brendon’s (admittedly douchey) tone. For the first time, Brendon looks at him.  
  
And he doesn’t look uncomfortable either. He’s drawn himself up to his full height, a little taller than Brendon, and he’s got a blatant (and kind of hot) look of mild annoyance on his face. Even under the blazer, his bones look sharp and prominent, and he’s skinnier than Brendon’s ever seen. He’s actually really attractive, in a weird, unconventional way. Not that Brendon shows this. He just says “I’ll be sure to,” and looks back at Spencer.  
  
“Okay, well I’m having this jam session thing at my apartment next weekend, and if you decide to stop being a huge asshole between now and then, you’re welcome to come.”  
  
Brendon is shocked. Nobody has ever called him out, ever. Especially not someone Brendon’s pretty sure he could break in half if he bent him the right way.  
  
Before he lets that train of thought go somewhere that would be kind of inconvenient in public, he looks at Ryan to make some kind of response along the lines of, “In your dreams,” but Ryan’s already turning around, and then he’s gone.  
  
Spencer spends a little bit more time socializing, and Brendon stays on the wall, watching Ryan being annoyingly extroverted. And annoyingly hot. Brendon’s suddenly transfixed. When the party ends, and Spencer whispers a plea for him to stay over, and they start kissing feverishly among the solo cups and empty Dorito’s bags in the basement, even when Brendon growls “You called me your boyfriend” on Spencer’s lips, and Spencer pushes him roughly to the ground and blows him harshly, perfectly, as an apology, Brendon can’t stop thinking about the angry pout of Ryan’s face before he turned around and left Brendon more flustered than he can remember being in a long time.  
  
The rest of the week passes in the lazy haze of a new summer, and Brendon eventually decides he’ll go to the stupid jam session, just to see if Ryan’s really as good as everyone says (or as attractive as he remembers).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon doesn't admit it, but he kind of likes this.. He could write lyrics to this. He’s definitely a bit put off by the fact that Ryan is leaning against the wall next to Spencer, and they keep exchanging glances and smiles that Brendon doesn't want to interpret.

Spencer drives Brendon to Ryan’s. Spencer talks excitedly about how excited he is to finally go to Ryan’s apartment and how great Ryan is at guitar, and he’s got some great ideas for lyrics, and please, Brendon, give this a chance and don’t be a dick.

“You know I don’t want to be in a band,” Brendon says dully. He wishes he had a cigarette. Brendon hasn’t been in a band since Junior year, when he and Spencer tried to start one up. They were successful for a while, despite having a revolving door of rhythm guitarists, but a lot of creative differences (mainly, no one understood that Brendon was in charge) caused the band to dissolve after about a year. But Brendon and Spencer had been together since the band broke up, so Brendon did get something good out of it. As far as his musical career goes, he’ll know the right band when it comes along. He’s not looking. He’s not worried. He knows he’ll be famous soon, somehow. 

“What are you gonna do next year, Brendon?” Spencer asks, his tone uncomfortably serious. “I go to college in like two months and you’re gonna be sitting around, waiting for fame to fall into your lap. What are you gonna do when I’m gone?”

“Die from missing you,” Brendon says sweetly, smiling at Spencer. Spencer chuckles.

“I don’t know that you’ll remember me two weeks after I leave,” Spencer mumbles sadly, and Brendon’s gotta admit that he’s probably right, but he doesn’t respond. Then Spencer says, loudly, “You need to find a way to ground yourself, Brendon.”

“Music.” That’s the automatic response, always. It’s the only thing that keeps him sane, more than drugs or Spencer or anything else. Music was more important than anything.

“Right, but you need to do something other than play in your room and wait for people to worship you,” Spencer says, pulling into the parking lot for the apartment. And then Brendon realizes something. Spencer didn’t use directions to get here. No Mapquest, no nothing. Which doesn’t make sense.

“Wait, I thought you’d never been here before. How did you know how to get here?”

Spencer is silent. He shrugs and adjusts his rearview mirror before getting out. Brendon’s annoyed, but he follows suit, grabbing his guitar from the back seat.

Ryan’s apartment is very different than Brendon expects. It’s white and empty, just a few chairs and a drum kit in the living room. There’s nothing on the walls. 

Ryan’s wearing a black button down and blue skinny jeans and yes, he is just as hot as Brendon remembers. He introduces Spencer and Brendon to a short, mean looking guy named Pete and his boyfriend, a boy named Mikey who looks just as young and skinny as Ryan. A few other people are there, people Brendon recognizes from high school. They all talk for a little bit, and then Mikey pulls out his bass and starts plucking at it. Spencer finds his way to the drum kit and starts playing an easy rhythm as Brendon settles on a chair across the room. He starts playing along, making up melodies. Eventually everyone’s instruments are out, everyone’s playing whatever comes into their head. Brendon doesn’t admit it, but he kind of likes this, the sounds everyone’s making. He could write lyrics to this. He’s only a little put off by the fact that Mikey and Pete eventually give up playing their basses to cuddle and kiss while everyone around them is playing. And he’s definitely a bit put off by the fact that Ryan is leaning against the wall next to Spencer, and they keep exchanging glances and smiles that Brendon doesn’t want to interpret.

Mikey and Pete leave first, flushed and giggling, and even though there’s still a bass player (a guy named Jon that Brendon never paid attention to in high school, but he’s pretty good), it’s only one bass for four or five guitars, so people give up and leave slowly. Spencer drops a drumstick next to Ryan and reaches for it. Ryan gets to it first, and when he gives it to him they share a look that Brendon knows, one he hates seeing Spencer give anyone but him. He absently plucks his guitar, a little too harshly for his acoustic. He starts to get restless. Soon it’s just him, Jon, Ryan and Spencer playing together. And it sounds good, better than Brendon expected, but he still wants to leave. 

“I’m starving, I’m gonna get something to eat. We should do this again though,” Jon says, packing up his stuff. He waves goodbye and lets himself out. Brendon takes the opportunity. 

“Alright, let’s go,” Brendon says a little too loud. 

“Well that was harsh,” Spencer says. “A few more minutes.” 

“You have to go to work.” Brendon doesn’t know if it’s true, but he hopes it is because he can’t watch them anymore.

“Shit, you’re right. One more song?”

Brendon sighs, but starts playing a random progression of chords. The three of them blend really well, but Brendon’s still annoyed. So of course he breaks a fucking string on his fucking guitar and ends the song abruptly.

“Fuck!” he screams. 

“How did that happen?” Ryan asks.

“I was playing too hard, and I haven’t changed these strings in ages…” he doesn’t know why he’s explaining himself, just that he thinks he has to. “I don’t even have strings for this guitar.”

“I have strings, I can change it if you want,” Ryan offers. Brendon hesitates for a second, then he nods.

“Great,” Spencer says. “We should get going anyway, so we can stop by later and grab it-“

“I’m not going anywhere without my guitar. I’ll wait.” Which is partially true. He hates leaving his instruments in other people’s hands. But he’s also incredibly curious about Ryan. He wants to get him alone, even if he doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he has it.

“I have to go to work, Brendon.”

“There are buses, Spencer. I’ll get home.”

“I can just bring you home later,” Ryan says too quickly. Spencer eyes them both, and with a last, long glance at Brendon, he slowly gets up and leaves.

Ryan holds out his hands and Brendon gives him the guitar. Being in the apartment alone with Ryan is… different than Brendon expected. More awkward. He’s about to follow Spencer out the door when Ryan says, “Let me show you my room,” and how is Brendon supposed to turn that offer down?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are a fucking prick.”
> 
> “And you’re too self-centered for your own good. We’ve all got problems, douchebag.”

Ryan’s room is the total opposite of the living room. There are clothes and CDs everywhere, the walls are cluttered with posters, and the futon in the middle is a shocking red. This is more Brendon’s scene. He looks around the walls as Ryan changes his guitar string, noting that they have almost exactly the same musical tastes. He turns to look at Ryan, his head bent over the guitar, and out of nowhere, he wants.   
  
“Good as new!” Ryan says after a bit, and Brendon realizes he’s been staring, so he looks down as he takes the guitar. He turns for the door when Ryan asks, “Want a smoke?”  
  
And Brendon really does. “Yeah, thanks.”  
  
Ryan pulls an Altoid’s tin out of his nightstand drawer (a drawer that also contains condoms and lube, Brendon notices hungrily). But inside isn’t tobacco. Brendon can smell it the second Ryan opens the tin.   
  
“Oh, you meant weed,” Brendon says stupidly.  
  
“Yeah, is that okay?” Ryan asks, but he’s already rolling a joint.  
  
“Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been really craving a cigarette, that’s all.”  
  
“This’ll take care of that,” Ryan says, and Brendon knows it will, so he sits cross-legged on the floor next to Ryan’s feet. Ryan rolls it, licks it shut and lights it, but he passes it to Brendon first.  
  
“You get first hit.”  
  
Brendon takes a drag letting the smoke fill his lungs and his brain before exhaling slowly. It was a big hit, so he’s not sure if he imagines the fact that Ryan’s staring at his parted lips. He gives the joint to Ryan.  
  
They smoke together in silence, and Brendon likes the way he feels, just barely high, enough for everything to seem happy and calm around him. Ryan lays on the futon, and his knees look bonier than Brendon remembers, but he still wants to touch every bit of him.  
  
“You’re gay, right?” Ryan asks, slow, his tongue sounding dull.  
  
“Mmm,” Brendon responds, not sure how to answer or why Ryan’s even asking.  
  
“I don’t know if I am,” Ryan responds. “I mean, girls are beautiful, but so are boys.”  
  
“You’re bi.”  
  
“I don’t want to be.” Ryan reaches hand down to his crotch and just rests it there, and Brendon can hardly contain himself, really.  
  
“What do you want to be?” Brendon asks, not looking at Ryan’s face, but his hand, which is palming his (pretty obvious) erection through his jeans.  
  
Ryan looks quickly at Brendon and smiles. “Yours?”  
  
Before Brendon’s marijuana-clouded mind can process what Ryan’s saying, Ryan slides down from the futon and somehow lands in his lap. And Brendon knows what this means. He tangles his hands in Ryan’s hair and kisses him softly.  
  
At first it’s more hesitant than Brendon expected. His lips meet Ryan’s lightly, begging Ryan to go further. But for a second he doesn’t, and it’s just Ryan’s lips on Brendon’s, not _kissing_ but not _not_ kissing. Brendon feels absurd. Then Ryan pulls away and asks, “Do you want this?” and all Brendon can think to do is nod.  
  
Then it happens. Ryan kisses back harder, his tongue sliding across Brendon’s bottom lip. Brendon lets Ryan in. He takes in everything about Ryan’s mouth, the smoothness of the roof of his mouth, the jaggedness of his teeth, the fullness of his tongue. Ryan bites down on Brendon’s bottom lip and Brendon can’t help the moan that escapes him. Ryan pulls away just long enough  to smirk before kissing him again, pushing him so that he’s laying on the ground.   
  
They kiss almost urgently, and Ryan begins to grind his hips down on Brendon’s. Brendon grips the back of Ryan’s shirt, balling it in his hands as he feels Ryan’s dick hot against his own. Their breathing gets heavy against each other. Brendon’s jeans are getting uncomfortable, and as Ryan pops open the button on them, he’s ready to give up control and let him do whatever he wants. And then, suddenly, with Ryan’s mouth still on his and Ryan’s hand slipping down his jeans, Brendon pulls away to ask the one thing he really wants to know.  
  
“Did you fuck Spencer last night?”   
  
Ryan stops, and suddenly everything is too silent. Brendon can feel the small high he had disappearing, and he’s suddenly hyper aware of how much Ryan’s hip bones cut into his stomach. He’s laying on a CD that hurts his lower back. Suddenly, none of this feels right.  
  
“Yeah. This morning, too, before he went and got you.” Ryan’s smug about it, grinning widely. Which makes Brendon even madder than he would’ve been.  
  
He pushes Ryan off of him, and he’s pretty impressed with how far back Ryan goes. He scrambles up, breaking a CD case or two in the process. “Fuck this,” he says, and storms out of the room after grabbing his guitar.  
  
Ryan follows him into the living room. “You’re not even exclusive,” he says, exasperated.  
  
Brendon turns to face him. “That’s not the point. The point is that you fucked a guy _this morning_ and now you’re trying to fuck the guy he’s dating. One guy in twelve hours isn’t good enough for you?”  
  
“You want it.”  
  
“I wanted it. Past tense. I don’t fuck annoying little shits on principle.”  
  
Brendon stalks to the door, but Ryan calls out to him, sounding apologetic. “Wait, Brendon, hold up.”  
  
Brendon turns around, waiting for the apology he knows is coming.  
  
“Your pants are undone.”  
  
Brendon looks down and realizes Ryan’s right. He’s furious and embarrassed. He fixes his jeans and says, his voice leaking venom, “You are a fucking prick.”  
  
“And you’re too self-centered for your own good. We’ve all got problems, douchebag.”  
  
“Go fuck yourself,” Brendon shouts, and he leaves, knowing that he was incredibly immature but needing to get the hell away from Ryan.  
  
He goes out to the street and looks around for a bus stop. He doesn’t know of any around here. He doesn’t even know where he is, really. He just knows he never wants to see Ryan Ross ever again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you always this forward?”
> 
> “I’m not trying to get you in bed. Not everyone spends their lives trying to get Brendon Urie in bed.”
> 
> “Most people do.”

There’s another party later in the week, but Spencer doesn’t invite Ryan. Brendon came home Saturday and yelled at him, and then Spencer yelled at Brendon (“You tell everyone you’re not my boyfriend! What am I supposed to do in college, shrivel up?”), but after the shouting match they got over it. Brendon had to give Spencer some leeway anyway. It’s not like he’s never fooled around with other guys- hell, he may have hooked up with Ryan if Ryan hadn’t been such a dick. So it’s not a point of argument for them, but Spencer also hasn’t talked to Ryan since the jam session. And neither has Brendon.  
  
The party’s pretty typical. People keep coming in and going out of the basement, Spencer taking full advantage of his fake ID and his parents’ frequent vacations without him. Brendon’s not really in a party mood- it’s a fucking Wednesday. But he sticks around because he knows that when everyone gets thrown out, he can stay with Spencer.  
  
It’s kind of weird with Spencer. They used to be… well, a couple, really. Other than the fact that they both decided they didn’t want to be exclusive, they still held hands in public and went on dates and never even thought about other guys. Then senior year started and things kind of disintegrated. It’s not that Spencer and Brendon ever fought. It’s just that they stopped doing things with each other and started doing other people. Brendon had a job at a bar and he met plenty of guys there. Spencer was more devoted to being with Brendon, but he falls off the wagon sometimes too, which Brendon has always understood. But this summer, they haven’t done much of anything beyond fucking after Spencer’s parties. Which Brendon is totally fine with, except that now it’s becoming kind of tedious. He wishes they’d just end it.  
  
He drinks because he wants a cigarette, but he can’t smoke because Spencer hates the taste. He waits for 1 am. But 1 comes and goes, and then 2. And no one leaves. Spencer’s just as social as he was at 11, and Brendon is really wondering why he came in the first place. A few girls come up to him and he even tries to get on board, but it’s rare that he’s attracted to women. When 2:30 comes, Brendon’s angry and restless. He’s going to have a cigarette whether Spencer likes it or not.  
  
He goes upstairs and walks out to the front yard. Beer cans are strewn about and people are definitely fucking in one of the cars. Brendon wonders how Spencer puts up with all this crap.  
  
He walks on the sidewalk, a little past Spencer’s house. He shuffles in between Spencer’s neighbor’s house and the house next to it and pulls out a cigarette and his lighter, but his lighter won’t work. He’s so focused on trying to get his Zippo going that he doesn’t notice the click of wingtip shoes until they’re right next to him.  
  
“Need a light?” Ryan asks, holding up a book of matches.  
  
Brendon looks at him and takes his cigarette out of his mouth. “Not from you, thanks.”  He turns around, ready to go back to Spencer’s basement and just _deal_ , but Ryan speaks.  
  
“You know, I’m really sorry about Saturday.”  
  
Brendon stops. He considers it. Maybe he should be nice, just say it’s okay, even if it’s not. And anyway, talking to Ryan is probably a thousand times more interesting than going back to Spencer’s. So he turns back to Ryan.  
  
“Why are you in this neighborhood?” he asks instead of forgiving him.  
  
“Mikey’s house is just down the block,” Ryan explains, then offers the matches again. This time, Brendon takes one.  
  
“This doesn’t mean we’re cool,” Brendon says, lighting his cigarette and finally, _finally_ taking a drag.  
  
“You have a nice mouth. You know, for smoking,” Ryan says.  
  
“Are you always this forward?”  
  
“I’m not trying to get you in bed. Not everyone spends their lives trying to get Brendon Urie in bed.”  
  
“Most people do.”  
  
Ryan laughs lightly at this, and Brendon’s heart flutters a little. He takes another drag to get rid of the giddiness.  
  
“You’re something, Brendon,” Ryan says, a smile playing on his lips. And Brendon can’t help but think that the last time they saw each other, Brendon kissed those lips, almost did a lot more than kissing.  
  
“Why’d you fuck Spencer?” he asks, not really sure why he wants to know.  
  
“We were drunk. He kissed me. Then it just happened. It wasn’t a big deal. I wouldn’t have if I’d thought you two were together. Exclusively, I mean. I’m not that much of an asshole.”  
  
Brendon just nods, taking a drag of his cigarette. He’d been too busy staring at the shapes Ryan’s mouth made that he almost missed what Ryan was saying. “So sex isn’t a big deal to you,” he says, and it sounds accusatory, but Brendon doesn’t care.  
  
“I mean, no, not all the time. You can’t tell me sex is a big deal to you,” Ryan says, not backing down.  
  
“I don’t have one-night stands,” Brendon lies.  
  
“Don’t try and act all innocent, Brendon Urie. Everyone has one-night stands. Just… some people more than others.”  
  
“Whatever” is the only response he can think of. Ryan frustrates him more than anyone else he’s ever met. Everyone has always worshipped Brendon, and here comes this cocky kid from God knows where, dressed in ridiculous clothes, telling him that he doesn’t care about the people he has sex with. Which, even though it’s true, isn’t something you want to be told by anyone.  
  
“We should jam again sometime,” Ryan says lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets.  
  
“Last time worked so well,” Brendon deadpans.  
  
“Well, if you didn’t get so defensive about your friend with benefits branching out, I think it would’ve gone amazingly.”  
  
“Get the hell out of here, okay?” Brendon says, trying hard to conceal his anger. He’s tired of talking about it, he’s tired of talking to Ryan. He just wants a fucking smoke.  
  
“Hey,” Ryan whispers, taking a step toward him, his voice barely a whisper, “Hey, just calm down, okay? Take it easy.”  
  
Brendon stares at him. He knows he hasn’t had a lot to drink, but he feels lightheaded just looking at Ryan, inhaling the smell of him, listening to his breath. It’s like Ryan Ross can get him drunk. It’s a feeling he hates, but he doesn’t resist it. He reaches up, on instinct, to brush Ryan’s prominent cheekbone with his fingertips. Ryan is still, but he closes his eyes.  
  
“You could kiss me if you wanted,” Ryan says, and his voice kind of sounds like angels or something, so Brendon does. He leans forward and their lips brush lightly. And then Ryan presses his body into him and slips his hand into Brendon’s back pocket, and Brendon wraps his arms around Ryan’s shoulders. And then it’s so much more than kissing. Their lips press together and Brendon drops his cigarette as Ryan shoves his tongue into Brendon’s mouth, because this is so much better than a regular smoke. He pushes Ryan onto the side of the house they’re standing next to and continues to kiss him as Ryan hooks his leg around Brendon’s waist. Brendon responds by thrusting lightly onto Ryan’s hips, his lips never leaving Ryan’s. Ryan cards his fingers through Brendon’s hair and bucks his hips hard into Brendon, and Brendon has to (has to, but really doesn’t _want_ to) pull away for the moan that leaves his mouth. Ryan pulls his leg down and smiles.  
  
“Fuck, Brendon, you _do_ have a nice mouth,” he breathes. Then he kisses Brendon again and, after a few seconds, he reaches into Brendon’s jeans, stroking Brendon’s erection without bothering to pull his jeans down, or even unzip the fly.  
  
Brendon shudders and sighs. One touch from Ryan sends more electricity through him than anything he can remember in a long time. He pulls away to rest his head on Ryan’s shoulder, letting Ryan idly brush his fingers along Brendon’s length.  
  
“You could come home with me,” Ryan whispers. “Let’s get out of here.”  
  
Brendon looks up at Ryan, and something in him really, really wants to. But something really, really doesn’t.  
  
“I can’t,” Brendon whispers. “I have to go back to this party, Spencer will worry.” The mood’s kind of gone, so Brendon steps away from Ryan and lets Ryan pull his hand away.  
  
“Right, Spencer, your fake boyfriend,” Ryan says, not sounding upset. He stretches and says, “Well, I’ll see you around, I guess.”  
  
“Spencer’s not my fake boyfriend. He’s not my boyfriend at all.”  
  
“Then why do you give a shit if he worries about you?”  
  
“We’re friends and I should be at his party like I told him I would be.”  
  
“You can just say you don’t want to go home with me. I know you don’t, otherwise you would have said, ‘Can’t tonight, how about tomorrow?’”  
  
“I don’t plan when I’m going to have sex.”  
  
“Right, because it seems too much like a date for you, I’m sure,” Ryan say, showing no emotion. It’s a bit eerie to Brendon, the fact that Ryan is saying all of these accusatory things in a completely indifferent way. He doesn’t like this conversation.  
  
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Brendon says, pulling out another cigarette.  
  
“You’re afraid of commitment, it’s cool. You won’t even have sex with me because you think it means too much to have sex with someone you know. No big. I’ll see you around.” And then he stalks off, and Brendon’s left to just… process.  
  
If Brendon really thinks about it, the only reason he said no is because _Ryan_ suggested that they go back to his place. Brendon doesn’t like not being in control of sex. But he really wishes he didn’t screw himself over. He keeps thinking about Ryan’s eyes, and his breath, and that fucking mouth…  
  
Letting his mind wander isn’t helping his erection at all, so he decides to have a calming smoke. He pulls out his Zippo and tries to light his cigarette.  
  
And his Zippo fucking works this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another chapter! Sorry it took so long, I won't take so long for the other chapters, I promise!
> 
> Keep the comments coming! Love you guys!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When I winked at you out there, I don’t think I was asking for your sage advice on how to sound good.”  
> “So why did you wink at me out there?”

Serenity is a really crappy place to hang out. The stage is probably a foot off the ground and can barely fit a full drum kit, the whole room smells like mildew, and you’re guaranteed to get beer spilled on you if you stay for more than 15 minutes. But the guy who runs sound can make the bass so loud it’s deafening, so Brendon goes whever he can.  
  
He decides to skip the party at Spencer’s tonight. They just aren’t working like they used to, and it’s not worth the effort of standing on the wall through an entire party just to get laid. And anyway, whenever Brendon jacks off anymore, he barely thinks about Spencer. Mostly he thinks about the curve of Ryan’s lips when he scowls. Brendon doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything hotter than that.  
  
He stands against the wall at Serenity, quietly watching the bands that take the stage. Brendon barely ever gets tangled in the crowd. It’s too sweaty, too crowded. He won’t do it for just any band. Only if they’re good. That’s usually how people judge a band- whether Brendon gets off the wall for them.   
  
He sips beer, which is colder and better than the beer at Spencer’s, and nods at a few people he knows. He’s beginning to regret coming out at all- tonight’s too boring and he hasn’t seen Ryan anywhere. It occurs to him that if he really wants to see Ryan, al he has to do is _call_ him or something, but Brendon’s not sure if he wants to see Ryan. It seems like they’re always getting in some kind of fight whenever they talk. Brendon just chalks it up to Ryan being a prick. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Brendon could really have anyone he wanted. So to occupy himself, he looks around for boys to flirt with.   
  
He finds a lanky boy standing alone on the wall and struts over. “Hi,” he says, “are you waiting for someone? People don’t usually come here alone.”  
  
The boy looks up through his flat-ironed bangs and smiles. “No, I’m not. I’m visiting from Baltimore, and I wanted to check out the local music scene. And get away from my grandparents for a while. I’m Alex.”  
  
“Brendon,” he introduces himself. “This may not be the best place to find bands, most of them are kind of shit here.”  
  
“Oh, that sucks! Do you know any places that are any better?”  
  
Brendon considers for a minute, then goes for it. “My parents are out of town tonight. I could show you a few good CD’s back at my place if you’re interested.”  
  
Alex smiles a little seductively as the emcee announces a local band called Disco. Brendon briefly thinks about the fact that he’s never heard this band, but then Alex says “Sounds great.”  
  
Brendon takes Alex’s hand and begins to walk toward the exit. But Alex stops and points at the stage. “Get a load of that guy,” he says, pointing at the guitarist.   
  
Brendon turns to look. And there, in a black vest, white v-neck, black pants so skinny they look painted on, and a scarf around his wrist, is Ryan, looking totally ridiculous and totally irresistible. “Let’s stay for this one,” he finds himself saying, and before Alex can respond, he lets go of his hand and begins to push his way through the crowd.  
  
Disco plays five songs. They’re pretty good. Ryan’s the guitarist and singer, Jon’s on the bass, and someone Brendon doesn’t know is on drums. Ryan’s voice is fantastic, and every girl he makes eye contact with is swooning. Brendon just moves with the crowd, hoping that Ryan catches his eye. And, at the end of the last song, Ryan does, and smiles. And winks. And that’s the end of it for Brendon.  
  
He pushes his way through the crowd into the backstage area. Everyone at Serenity knows him from his time in a band and the fact that he sleeps with band members sometimes. They let him through, and by the time Disco is finished taking apart their equipment, Brendon is waiting for Ryan on the worn out couch in the tiny dressing room. When Ryan walks in, he laughs. “Fancy seeing you here,” he says.  
  
“You were good,” Brendon says, shifting to let Ryan collapse next to him on the sofa. “I was surprised.”  
  
“Thanks for the compliment,” Ryan replies, sounding very annoyed and only a little hurt.  
  
“I mean, I don’t really like three piece bands. You need another guitarist, maybe backup vocals. Three piece bands sound flat.”  
  
“When I winked at you out there, I don’t think I was asking for your sage advice on how to sound good.”  
  
The comment catches Brendon off-guard. “So why did you wink at me out there?”  
  
“If you really think we need another person, why don’t you come play guitar?” Ryan says, avoiding the question.  
  
“I only front bands, sorry,” Brendon says.  
  
“That seems to be working out so well for you, seeing as you have a band and all.” Ryan’s fighting back, but he’s smiling in a way that tells Brendon that this banter is flirtatious instead of malicious.  
  
“When I find the right people, I’ll make a great band,” Brendon says. “I’m gonna be famous.”  
  
“You’re so sexy when you tell me about your dreams,” Ryan says mockingly, but Brendon thinks he might be serious.   
  
“You think I’m sexy?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“Prove it.” Brendon attempts a smirk, but he barely has a chance to before Ryan’s on top of him, kissing him hungrily, their hands in each other’s hair. Brendon pulls away from Ryan’s lips to kiss his jaw and neck, pulling down his shirt to nip at his collarbone. Brendon wants to experience Ryan in every possible way, taste every inch of skin he can get his mouth on.  
  
Ryan moans lightly and pulls at the button of Brendon’s jeans. Brendon bucks his hips, and Ryan positions himself so he’s straddling Brendon’s waist. After a few seconds, Brendon’s fly is undone and Ryan is practically _riding_ Brendon, grinding harshly on Bredon’s his, his mouth hot against Brendon’s lips. Brendon is reaching for Ryan’s belt when the door opens.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You could come back to my place.”
> 
> “I don’t think so. Maybe if you keep asking, I’ll say yes someday.”

“Uh, shit,” Jon says, standing in the doorway. “I just… Goddamn guys, lock the door.” And he shuts the door and leaves.   
  
Ryan giggles and gets off of Brendon. Brendon is close to begging him to stay, but Ryan goes to the door and turns the lock, and Brendon knows something great is going to happen.  
  
Ryan walks over to Brendon, his lips wet and swollen, his clothes a little messy, and drops to his knees in front of him. Brendon can’t help the muffled groan that escapes him. It’s just so attractive seeing him on his knees like that, and the thought of what’s coming next only makes it better.   
  
Ryan slowly, slowly, pulls Brendon’s jeans to his knees. He lifts himself up to kiss Brendon and Brendon kisses back fiercely. Ryan pulls away just enough to whisper “I’ve wanted this since I met you,” and then he settles back down, his mouth just above Brendon’s aching cock.  
  
“Don’t tease me,” Brendon whispers hoarsely, realizing that this is the first time he’s ever begged. “Please, I want it so bad.” He reaches down to Ryan’s neck and runs his hand through Ryan’s hair. He grips the back of Ryan’s head and Ryan smiles, biting his lips in the dirtiest way possible.  
  
Ryan doesn’t waste time. He takes Brendon into his mouth and, shit, it feels so good. Ryan swirls his tongue around before taking all of Brendon into his mouth, and he doesn’t gag once. It drives Brendon crazy. Ryan almost lets Brendon out of his mouth, but Brendon thrusts upward, filling Ryan’s mouth again. Ryan makes a slight choking sound, but he gets back into the rhythm easily. Brendon thinks wildly that Ryan is some kind of expert in this. It takes him no time at all to know the tongue movements that coax a moan from Brendon’s lips or a shiver down his spine. He doesn’t back off even a little bit, letting Brendon almost out of his mouth before taking him all in again, Brendon’s cock brushing the back of Ryan’s throat. Brendon, for his part, thrusts lightly into Ryan’s mouth, the movement of his hips matching the movement of Ryan’s lips, wet and tight and so, so hot. All Brendon can think is that he just wants to fuck Ryan, as hot and lazy as he’s fucking his mouth, he just wants this to happen so bad. The thought causes him to buck his hips suddenly and harshly, and Ryan moans onto Brendon’s cock, low and so sexy, and Brendon feels the orgasm pooling in his spine.   
  
He can barely choke out a “Ryan, I’m going to” before he comes into Ryan’s mouth, but Ryan swallows everything, which only makes him more attractive to Brendon. He rests his forehead on Brendon’s knee, and it takes Brendon a second to realize that Ryan’s working himself. It’s fast and sloppy, but it still makes Brendon gape. He can feel himself getting hard again and grips his cock, trying to ease some of the ache before he gets another erection. He watches Ryan jacking off desperately, his mind completely empty, before he realizes he wants to do this for him.  
  
“Ry. Ryan,” Brendon whispers, his voice hoarse and low, “Let me.”  
  
Ryan just shakes his head. “Too close,” he mumbles, then he moans loudly, and Brendon’s definitely hard again. Ryan comes, shivering with aftershocks, and collapses a little, his head on Brendon’s thigh.  
  
They’re quiet for a while, Brendon stroking Ryan’s hair, until Ryan says, “I need a towel.” Brendon laughs.  
  
“Use a tee shirt or something,” he replies, and Ryan does, picking up a dirty shirt from the floor. Brendon adjusts himself, but not before Ryan sees his erection and snickers.  
  
“Want another round?” he asks, and Brendon just smiles, zipping his fly.  
  
“Not tonight. Once in here is quite enough.” Ryan sits next to him and curls into his side, and Brendon wraps his arm around his shoulders, feeling a little weird about cuddling after hooking up.  
  
“You could come back to my place.” Ryan practically purrs it, and it almost makes Brendon say yes. Almost.  
  
“I don’t think so. Maybe if you keep asking, I’ll say yes someday.”  
  
Ryan pouts. “Another one of Spencer’s parties you just have to get back to?”  
  
“Actually, I’m gonna go get some sleep. Spencer and I… I dunno, it’s not really a thing anymore, I guess.”  
  
“Does that mean there’s room for me?”  
  
“Maybe.”   
  
“It makes sense,” Ryan says, sitting up to face Brendon. “We keep running into each other, bickering, and then getting into one of these situations. So maybe if you started coming over, we could have huge fights and great sex.”  
  
“That’s true.” Brendon likes the idea, but it sounds too much like a relationship and he’s starting to freak out.  
  
“I really do want to have something here,” Ryan says seriously, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, not _a thing_ , but whatever you and Spencer have going on.”  
  
“We just go to parties and screw.”  
  
“Let’s do that, then. Minus the parties.”  
  
“I don’t plan anything. I don’t have plans. Or boyfriends.”  
  
“I’m not asking to be your boyfriend. But you should start planning something in your life or you’re not going anywhere.”  
  
Ryan’s starting to get preachy and it’s really killing the afterglow. Brendon gets up. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. I’ll show myself out.”  
  
“Wait,” Ryan says. “Just come to a band practice. Play guitar. Till we find something permanent. You’re not doing anything anyway.”  
  
Brendon doesn’t want to, but he’s losing the ability to say no to Ryan. So he nods. “Sure.”  
  
Ryan smiles. “And after band practice, we can screw.”  
  
Brendon just laughs and lets himself out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He… he actually likes Ryan, maybe, a little.
> 
> Okay, a lot.
> 
> Not that Ryan will ever know.

“So how do you know Mikey?” Brendon asks, strumming his guitar absently, laying on the empty floor of Ryan’s living room.

“Through Pete. Pete and I have been close for a long time. My dad and his dad know each other, and we used to fly out to Chicago to see them all the time. So Pete and I sort of grew up together, on opposite ends of the country. I can’t remember how Pete met Mikey. They probably played a few shows together or something. But Pete fell pretty hard pretty early. They’ve been together for a while. Mikey came out this summer from New Jersey to live with a cousin, maybe get some recognition in Las Vegas. Pete followed him. They’re both great bass players. And great guys.”

“Yeah, when I met them they seemed pretty cool.”

“What about Spencer?” Ryan asks, looking down at Brendon from the couch.

“We’ve known each other since high school started. We started a band a few years ago. It didn’t take off, but one night we were jamming together and Spencer looked at me and I kind of… knew. That night, I kissed him goodnight and then it escalated.”

“How very chivalrous of you. I didn’t know Brendon Urie had a good side.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

“How’d you meet Spencer?” Brendon asks, trying to fill the empty space in the apartment with his voice. Jon and Ryan’s friend, Jason, who had been playing the drums, have been gone for about an hour, but Brendon doesn’t want to go home. The music had been great, and he's still feeling the effects of it, like the afterglow after great sex.

“I lived in the suburbs for a while, but the second I turned 18 I moved into Vegas. I’ve seen Spencer a lot because he works at the café I go to when I write music. When I moved into the city, I started talking to him about the music scene. Then he invited me to that party.”

Brendon feels a pang of jealousy knowing that Spencer knew Ryan and didn’t tell him about it. Although, someone that looks as good as Ryan does was bound to cause jealousy at some point.

“He doesn’t mind that you’re here, does he?”

Brendon shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell him I was coming.”

“You what?” Ryan says, sitting up from his reclined position on the couch. “Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t need to keep tabs on me?” Brendon replies, sitting up. “Why does it matter? It’s Sunday afternoon, he’s probably working anyway.”

“And what about when he gets off of work? Isn’t he gonna want to see you? I’m not getting in between the two of you.”

“Alright, where the FUCK is this coming from?” Brendon asks, sitting up and facing Ryan. “For the millionth time since I met you, Spencer and I ARE NOT EXCLUSIVE. He doesn’t care if I’m with you or any other guy. You can’t get in between the two of us, it’s not possible. And may I remind you that you had your mouth on my dick a few nights ago. I don’t think you were too worried about what Spencer thought then. Anyway, if he wants to see me tonight, nothing’s stopping him.”

“You’re not staying?”

Brendon is silent for a second before replying, “I wasn’t planning on it, no.”

“Oh.” Ryan looks a little dejected.

“I told you, Ryan. I don’t plan sex. Or anything, really. If you want anything to happen here, don’t plan shit out. You’re only going to get hurt.”

“As if you could ever hurt me,” Ryan hisses, which is kind of funny because he does sound really hurt.

“Please, Ryan. I like making out with you, but let’s be honest. I don’t hold much stock in this.”

In the silence that follows, Brendon is very aware of two things. First, he realizes with some amount of annoyance that this always happens with Ryan- they start off having a nice conversation, even flirting, and then it disintegrates into some kind of shouting match. And second, Brendon realizes as the words are coming out of his mouth that he’s not being entirely honest. He suddenly realizes he holds a lot of stock in what Ryan thinks of him. He… he actually likes Ryan, maybe, a little.

Okay, a lot.

Not that Ryan will ever know.

Brendon is jerked out of his thoughts by the realization that Ryan is staring at him, his eyes a little red, his jaw clenched. 

“What? You’re not mad at me, are you?” Brendon asks, exasperated. Ryan’s almost acting attached, and it’s really getting on Brendon’s nerves.

“No, why the fuck would I be?” 

“Don’t be a dick, okay? Just because you want this more than I do…”

“Just shut the fuck up,” Ryan spits, and suddenly he’s on top of Brendon, pinning him to the ground by his wrists. Their lips don’t meet so much as collide, and this kiss is so much different from anything Brendon’s experienced. Ryan’s lips are pressed savagely on his. He forces his tongue hard between Brendon’s lips, filling Brendon’s mouth too quickly for him to fully catch his breath. Brendon realizes after a thoughtless second that this kiss is a fight.

And Brendon fully intends to win.

He presses his lips against Ryan’s fast and hard. He feels their teeth clash together and he thinks he can taste blood. He can’t do much without his hands, but he pushes his tongue into Ryan’s mouth and explores every inch of it harshly, wanting to tire Ryan out, or at least coax a moan out of him. Ryan pulls away, and Brendon thinks he’s won, but only until Ryan presses his teeth against his earlobe and bites down. Brendon can’t help the groan that leaves his lips. He can’t help the fact that his hips buck up against Ryan’s stomach, begging for a different type of friction. Ryan shifts a little so that he’s straddling Brendon’s hips, his thigh right next to Brendon’s fast-forming erection. He starts to bite down Brendon’s neck, sucking hard lines toward his collarbone. Brendon tries to move his hands so he can pull at Ryan’s hair, or at least do something that doesn’t leave him so helpless, but Ryan’s a lot stronger than he looks, and Brendon’s left to strain against him. “Ryan, come on, fuck, Ryan…”

Brendon says it in hopes that it’ll get Ryan off him, but it only brings Ryan’s mouth back to his, hot and open and so inviting. Brendon gives in and relaxes into the kiss, moaning Ryan’s name quietly against his lips. 

And then, suddenly, something shifts. Brendon’s not sure who won, but he knows they aren’t competing anymore. The kiss becomes softer and Ryan releases Brendon’s wrists. Brendon takes full advantage, running his fingers through Ryan’s hair with one hand and pulls Ryan close to his chest with the other. Ryan responds by pushing his hips gently into Brendon’s, and Brendon reciprocates. The room is oppressively quiet except for the soft sounds coming from the two boys, both of them thrusting against each other, begging for more friction. Brendon can feel the heat of Ryan’s erection, and it only serves to get him more turned on, so when Ryan pulls away and whispers “Bedroom?”, all Brendon wants to do is nod.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He likes Ryan. He wants to know Ryan in every way. This actually means something.

Ryan stands up and takes Brendon’s hand. They walk wordlessly into Ryan’s room, careful not to step on everything that’s littering the floor. Ryan lays on the futon and Brendon follows, falling on top of him. They kiss lightly, lips barely brushing against each other. Brendon knows what’s going to happen, and suddenly he’s nervous.  
  
“Ryan,” he breathes, kissing Ryan’s jaw.  
  
“Mmm,” Ryan purrs.  
  
“Tell me what you like. I want to make this good for you.”  
  
“You say that to all the guys,” Ryan laughs, and he sighs at the feeling of Brendon’s lips on his neck. Brendon doesn’t bother telling Ryan that he’s never actually said that to anyone, never actually cared what other guys liked. He just starts unbuttoning Ryan’s shirt.  
  
It slides off of Ryan’s thin frame easily, and Brendon runs his hands up Ryan’s pale, skinny arms before gliding them along Ryan’s torso. He feels Ryan shiver under his fingertips. He makes eye contact with the boy under him, begging him to just let Brendon know what he wants.  
  
“I like that,” Ryan whispers, just barely audible. He swallows and says, “My stomach and my neck. They’re sensitive, I guess.”  
  
Brendon smiles and runs his hands along Ryan’s flat stomach, skimming his fingertips over his hipbones. He leans close to Ryan and licks his lips before pressing them into the skin of his torso, planting a few kisses along his waistline. He really likes the tiny sounds coming from Ryan, so he kisses his navel. Ryan moans and arches his back, pressing himself closer to Brendon’s lips. Brendon smiles and kisses each of Ryan’s ribs on his way to his neck, coaxing whimpers from Ryan that drive Brendon crazy. He sucks hard on Ryan’s neck, just above his shoulder, and Ryan reaches for Brendon’s head and actually _pulls_ his hair, and then Brendon’s done screwing around. He just wants this boy.  
  
He kisses Ryan again, slow and lazy. He starts pulling his shirt off, but Ryan takes over for him, pulling it over his head and throwing it on the ground. Then he pulls Brendon’s jeans off, which isn’t easy because they’re really skinny and Ryan doesn’t bother unbuttoning them first. As Brendon kicks his jeans and boxers off, Ryan yanks off his pants. When they face each other again, Brendon leaning above Ryan, All Brendon can do is stare. Ryan is skinnier than Brendon imagined, but his pale skin and jutting bones make him look like some kind of angel. He stares for a few moments at Ryan, from his wide eyes to his dick, which is hard and red and too irresistible.  
  
“What?” Ryan asks, a smile playing at his lips. And Brendon doesn’t want to answer because, truth be told, he’s really scared. He’s suppressed this feeling for a while, but now that he’s here, he can’t help it- he likes Ryan. It’s gone beyond liking it when Ryan sucks him off or kisses him. He wants to be with Ryan, really be with him. For once, sex is going to mean something.  
  
He doesn’t say any of this. Instead, he just whispers something he hasn’t told anyone in a least a year. “You look beautiful.”  
  
Ryan smiles fully, his eyes softening. Brendon leans down to kiss him, and between the heat of the kiss and the feeling of Ryan’s erection against his bare stomach, it doesn’t take Brendon long to forget romance and want to just get inside Ryan.  
  
When Ryan pulls away to catch his breath, he whispers, “Will you fuck me?”  
  
“As if I want to do anything else.”  
  
Ryan smiles and reaches into his nightstand. He pulls out lube and condoms. “Wanna know what else I like?” Brendon nods.  
  
Ryan averts his gaze and says, his voice low, “I like it wet.”  
  
“Say that again,” Brendon says, gripping his erection because the last thing that came out of Ryan’s mouth was so sexy.  
  
“I like it wet,” Ryan says, louder, more confident. And Brendon’s mouth goes dry.  
  
“ _Fuck_. Yes. Okay.” He coats two fingers with lube and Ryan spreads his legs under him, biting his lip and staring at Brendon’s hand.  
  
“Look at me,” Brendon whispers, and Ryan does. Brendon maintains eye contact as he presses a finger into Ryan and god, it’s better than he expected. Ryan’s warm and tight and so nice, and the fact that he’s moaning and grinding his hips onto Brendon’s finger is making it that much better. Brendon smiles and pushes in as far as he can, and Ryan shuts his eyes and groans.  
  
“Good?” Brendon asks.  
  
“Hurry up, I really don’t want to come from you fingering me,” Ryan whines, gripping his cock and wiggling his hips in a way that almost sends Brendon over the edge. He doesn’t waste much more time. He slips in another finger, working Ryan quickly and leaning down to kiss his hipbones. Ryan sighs and arches his back before whimpering, “Brendon, please, just _fuck_ me, please.”  
  
Brendon smiles and removes his fingers. He pulls a condom out of the box and puts it on before drenching his erection with lube. He looks up at Ryan, who just nods, his eyes dark, his lips parted.  
  
Brendon takes it as a cue and lines himself up with Ryan. Before he starts, he looks down at their bodies, so close together, and realizes that this means something to him. This means more than he thought. And that’s really scary. He pushes his thoughts away before slipping into Ryan, coaxing a soft cry from his lips.  
  
Ryan’s not the loudest lay Brendon’s ever had, but he’s not the quietest. It actually helps. Brendon can figure out what Ryan likes this way, learning from the soft moans that escape him that he likes it when Brendon goes as deep as he can, realizing from Ryan’s startled cry that he really loves it when Brendon hits the one spot he knew would make Ryan see stars. But he knows from the barely audible sighs, and the way Ryan’s hips roll deliberately with his, and the way he grabs Brendon’s shoulders and digs his fingernails in a little that Ryan wants it slow and hard and lazy. And that’s what Brendon gives him, thrusting easily into Ryan, in awe of the shapes his mouth makes when he whispers things like “Just like that,” and “Brendon, it’s perfect.” There’s nothing rushed about what they’re doing together. Brendon rolls into Ryan’s body perfectly, and Ryan’s hips move ever so slightly to adjust the angle. They explore each other, Ryan with his hands, dragging them along every inch of Brendon’s chest and back, tracing lines up and down his spine, and Brendon with his eyes, drinking in the way Ryan looks under him, hips bucking involuntarily every now and then, eyes half shut and darker than he’s ever seen. He likes this, the way they’re learning each other, the way he looks disappearing inside Ryan, trying hard not to go too fast, focusing on every movement they make together.  
  
Soon, Ryan’s sighs turn into whimpers, which turn into moans. “Brendon, shit, I’m close, I can’t…”  
  
He reaches to touch himself, but Brendon swats his hand away and reaches for it himself. He works Ryan with the same rhythm he’s using to fuck him, slow and just a little deliberate. Ryan squeezes his eyes shut and, unable to decide whether to push his hips into Brendon’s hand or his cock, he lays still, whispering Brendon’s name over and over. After only five or six strokes, he’s done, coming over himself and Brendon, moaning loudly. Brendon works him through the aftershocks and gives up on intimacy, thrusting harder into Ryan, fueled by his small cries of surprise. After another minute or two he’s climaxing, spilling into the condom and shivering on top of Ryan, who’s stroking his hair and whispering fragments of sentences like “so good” and “can’t imagine”. He reaches down and pulls a towel out of nowhere, cleaning himself and Brendon up. Brendon realizes after a full minute that he’s still inside Ryan and pulls out, rolling off of Ryan to tie off the condom and throw it out before settling next to him.  
  
They’re quiet for a few minutes, Brendon stroking Ryan’s chest, until Ryan says “I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked that good in my whole life.”  
  
Brendon just laughs. “Glad I could do that for you,” he says.  
  
“I feel like I could run a mile.”  
  
“Or sleep for days.”  
  
“Or that,” Ryan agrees, laughing. He looks at Brendon and asks, “You’ll stay the night, won’t you?”  
  
“Of course,” Brendon says, immediately wondering why it was so easy for him to say yes. Actually, he’s wondering a lot of things. Like, why is he cuddling after sex? He’s always hated it. And it was really good, but he didn’t think he… well… performed any better than he normally did. So why was it spectacular? The orgasm was something he’d never experienced before, a release that was so much bigger than just finishing after fucking someone. It’s like his whole body feels different, like instead of everything being gray and sleepy, it’s more alive, brighter with possibility.  
  
And that’s when he realizes it. The sex wasn’t just sex. It was intimate as hell. He’d never had sex that was that close to making love before. And at this point he just has to face it- he likes Ryan. Even if he is an asshole. And he wants to have sex with him again. Just like that, countless times. He wants to know Ryan in every way. This actually _means_ something. And before Brendon can psych himself out about it, he kisses Ryan hard, hoping his lips can say everything his mouth just… can’t yet.  
  
When he pulls away, Ryan looks at his alarm clock. “It’s only 6:30,” he says. “Wanna order Chinese?”  
  
Ryan calls a Chinese takeout place. He places their order and immediately falls back into bed with Brendon. He gets up once to answer the door for the delivery guy, but after that, neither of them leaves. The Chinese food goes mostly uneaten. It’s forgotten in favor of kissing and touching and yes, another round of perfect, long, incredibly enjoyable sex before they fall asleep, tangled together, talking about music and their favorite bad movies.  
  
And if Brendon were comfortable enough to admit it to himself, he’d know that there is nowhere else on earth he’d rather be than right here.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why don’t you start a band with Spencer, okay? Then you can fuck him senseless next to his drum kit so he tells you what a great guy you are, and you can pretend to be good at what you do."

In the few weeks after Ryan and Brendon’s first time sleeping together, a few things change.  
  
First of all, Brendon becomes an official member of Disco. It just happens. Brendon kept showing up to band practice just to mess around with the songs Ryan had already written, and then Ryan began writing rhythm guitar parts in new songs, and now Brendon knows he’s in it for good. One time, after a particularly good practice, Brendon had taken a shower at Ryan’s apartment. In the shower, he sang one of Disco’s songs at the top of his lungs. He loved Ryan’s lyrics, the way they flowed together, the way every song sounded fluid. When Brendon had gotten out of the shower, Ryan was sitting on his futon, smiling at him.  
  
“You can really sing,” Ryan had said.  
  
“Well, thank you.”  
  
“You could definitely front a band. But in the meantime, you’re all mine.” Ryan finished his statement with a kiss and really incredible sex.  
  
That’s another change. They fuck like rabbits. Brendon has never been with anyone who wants to fuck as much as Ryan, and he’s never been with anyone _he_ wants to fuck as much as he wants to fuck Ryan. And the sex is amazing. Sometimes it’s just sex- Brendon’s had a bad day at work and needs to let off steam, or Ryan’s gotten in another fight with his dad and craves the attention- but most of the time it’s much more than that. It’s making love, which Brendon thinks at least once every time they have sex before he realizes they’re not even in love with each other. They just really like each other. That’s obvious, because some nights there’s not any sex at all. They just order Chinese and make out for hours at a time on the stiff thrift store couch in Ryan’s living room before falling asleep holding each other, necks craned at weird angles because the couch is too short for them.  
  
Another thing is that Brendon’s never home. His parents noticed it once and said something about it, but Brendon shrugged them off, assuring them that he wasn’t into drugs. So now his parents don’t ask questions and he’s over at Ryan’s every day and almost every night. He’s got a drawer of clothes in Ryan’s room, and half of the food in the cabinets was bought by Brendon. The only person who seems to notice or care how much time Brendon’s spending at Ryan’s is Spencer. They’ve gotten in a few arguments about it, mostly about how Spencer misses Brendon and what the hell is he doing with Ryan, anyway, doesn’t Brendon hate him? But Brendon’s just given up altogether on talking to Spencer. It’s not like they had much at the end, anyway.  
  
The biggest change is that Brendon can pretty much admit, only at certain times and only if prompted, that he likes Ryan. Sometimes, when Ryan is snoring on his chest and the stiffness of the futon is keeping him awake, Brendon is so overwhelmed by how much he likes Ryan that he wants to kiss him forever or cry or something. But then he brings himself back to reality. Nobody should like anyone that much. It gets in the way of life, ambition.  
  
A few things don’t change, though. Mostly the fact that Brendon hates commitment and the fact that he wants to front a band. So, after a few weeks, the honeymoon phase comes to an abrupt halt.  
  
It starts off with little things. Brendon complains about the way he has to play a certain line. He starts having issues with the way Jason plays drums. He thinks Ryan’s futon is too uncomfortable. Ryan just smiles at the comments and snide remarks, silently willing Brendon to just shut up, but it doesn’t seem to work.  
  
One day, Brendon brings up how much he hates the band’s name.  
  
“Disco is just… awful. It’s boring. Nobody’s going to want to listen to a band called Disco.”  
  
“What should we call it, then?” Ryan asks, smiling next to him on the couch. Brendon can tell from the look in Ryan’s eyes that he’s actually really annoyed, but he continues anyway.  
  
“Something punchier, something with more depth. Like an emotion or a color. Something harsh, ya know?”  
  
“You want me to name my band Harsh.”  
  
“No, not at all! We should name it… Panic.”  
  
“Panic?”  
  
“Yeah! And put an exclamation point at the end.”  
  
“I’m not calling my band Panic.”  
  
“Panic means something to people. Disco is outdated.”  
  
“You can’t tell me what to call my band. It’s been Disco since the beginning, and we got gigs with that name. If I change the name- because that’s for me to decide and not you- it won’t be for something as dumb as Panic.” Ryan’s actually annoyed now, which makes Brendon pretty annoyed, too. Ryan’s cute, but he doesn’t know what he was talking about.  
  
“You know what, if you can’t just accept the fact that I’m right in this, then fuck you.”  
  
And then Ryan is on top of him and does, in fact, fuck him on the living room floor.  
  
For a while, that’s how they deal with their problems. Brendon brings something up, and right when they’re on the verge of an argument, they suddenly both have the idea to screw each other. It helps to avoid fights, but they stop talking as much. They have sex instead. And Brendon falls back into his normal pattern, not cuddling after sex, not telling Ryan when he’ll be out or where he’s going, not telling Ryan he likes him, not even sure if it’s true. He starts to sleep with other guys. He stops thinking of himself as Ryan’s. He’s just Brendon again, pure and simple.  
  
And then he asks to be the frontman of the band.  
  
It’s one night a few weeks after they started hooking up, after good wine and better sex. They’re laying together on the futon, but Ryan’s given up trying to cuddle, so they’re just facing each other. And Brendon brings it up. “You know that song you have about attempting suicide?”  
  
“Camisado?”  
  
“Yeah. I want to sing that at the next band practice.”  
  
Ryan sighs, exasperated, and rubs his eyes. “Why, Brendon?”  
  
“I think my voice lends itself more to that song.”  
  
“I let you sing that song, and you’re gonna want to sing every damn song we have.”  
  
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”  
  
There’s a pause, heavy with weeks of unspoken words and ignored tension. Then Ryan says, “Excuse me?”  
  
“I could be a great frontman for this band. You said it yourself.”  
  
“No. I said you could be a great frontman in general. I didn’t mean you could take over my band. I’m not changing the name and I’m not changing the lead singer. So fuck off, okay?”  
  
“Since when is this ‘your’ band? There are other people in it.”  
  
Ryan sits up, furious. “This has been ‘my’ band since I FUCKING STARTED THE BAND. And you only want an equal say until I let you front it, and then this band is gonna be Brendon and the fucking Panics. Nobody wants an asshole for a frontman.”  
  
“Can you stop being a fucking prick about this? It was just a question.”  
  
“It’s always _just_ a question with you, Brendon! You _just_ wanna know how this sounds the way you wrote it. You _just_ wanna see how a name change works. You _just_ wanna find a different drummer. You _just_ wanna take over my goddamn band! Why don’t you go home and start a band with Spencer, okay? Then you can fuck him senseless next to his drum kit so he tells you what a great guy you are, and you can pretend to be good at what you do.”  
  
There’s a silence, and Brendon and Ryan both know that Ryan just snapped. Brendon feels a lot of emotions at once- hurt, sadness, jealousy- but it all fades into anger. He gets off the futon and pulls his jeans on.  
  
Ryan is suddenly upset. “Brendon, please. Where are you going? Don’t leave.”  
  
“I’m just going to the living room. I need time to process… all that.”  
  
“Brendon- you know I like you. You know that, right?”  
  
Brendon pauses. He knows that Ryan is looking for some kind of reassurance that Brendon knows, that Brendon feels the same way, that they’re alright. But Brendon isn’t going to give him any of that.  
  
“Yeah,” he says, trying to sound indifferent, and he walks out of the room, knowing Ryan is staring after him.  
  
The next morning, Brendon wakes up on the couch, not remembering that he fell asleep there. He walks into the bedroom, intending to get his clothes and leave, but Ryan’s not there. He goes into the kitchen to find a note:  
  
 _Went to Marco’s to pick up some breakfast burritos. Don’t leave. I’m sorry._  
-R  
  
Brendon is pretty hungry, and he doesn’t really want to go home, so he decides to stay. He gets dressed and turns on the TV when there’s a knock at the door. Brendon gets up to answer it.  
  
When he opens the door, Spencer is on the other side.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Boys aren’t playthings. They’re human beings. You need to figure that out. Did you really think you could go through life being a callous asshole to the people that give a shit about you without getting hurt?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Brendon asks, his hand gripping the door.

“Chill. I’m just picking up some drumsticks Ryan wanted me to have. Where is he?” Spencer replies, pushing past Brendon into the apartment. Brendon follows him, trying to intimidate him enough to get him out.

“He went to get breakfast. You talk to Ryan?”

“Now and then. He told me his drummer didn’t like a pair of drumsticks so I could have them. Do you know where they are?”

“No. There’s a drum kit in the living room. Just hurry up and find them so you can get out.”

Spencer turns and smiles at Brendon. “Is this how you treat all your exes?”

“You’re not my ex, jackass, and I don’t take well to anyone barging in here in the morning.”

“Oh, right, you live here. I forgot.”

“Shut up and find your damn drumsticks.”

“I don’t think you have any right to snap at me. I haven’t even talked to you in weeks. I haven't done shit to you, okay?”

“Sorry,” Brendon says, softening. “I just had a bad night.”

Spencer smirks. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Aren’t you here for something?”

Spencer laughs. “Yeah. Sorry, I just miss talking to you like this.”

Brendon nods. He misses Spencer, too. In a month, not much has changed. Spencer is still attractive and a little submissive. Brendon misses being with someone that doesn’t fight with him all the time. He misses being with someone who worships him. He misses the feeling that Spencer gave him, like everything was okay because Brendon was a fantastic guy. Ryan never makes him feel like that. Well, almost never.

Spencer walks into the living room and Brendon follows. He sits on the couch while Spencer roots around the drum kit. He’s pretty happy with the view he has of Spencer’s ass as he bends down. He thinks for a fleeting second that he shouldn’t be checking Spencer out like this but, hey, technically they’re both single.

“So are you seeing anyone?” Brendon asks, trying his best to sound casual. 

“Not really. There’s not much time left in the summer and I’m not really meeting new people, so I’m just waiting till I go to school.” Spencer doesn’t turn to face Brendon as he says this, and Brendon almost misses what he’s saying because he’s having trouble getting over how hot Spencer looks.

“That’s too bad. I mean, you must be bored.” Brendon toys with the idea of getting up to touch Spencer, or kiss him, or even just stand near him, but he decides against it. He knows Ryan will be home any second, and he really doesn’t want to complicate the situation.

“Not really,” Spencer says, now crouching under the television to look through a few cabinets. “I still have parties, and I play drums all the time, so Summer’s wrapping up nicely.”

“Here, let me help you,” Brendon says quickly, desperate to be near Spencer. He pushes himself off the couch and kneels next to Spencer. They look through a cabinet in silence before Brendon says, “I’m really sorry about being such an ass to you.”

Spencer sighs. “It’s fine. I kind of thought we were more than what we were, ya know? But it’s not your fault. You made it clear what you wanted. I’m sorry I overthought it.”

Spencer looks at Brendon. Brendon almost wants to laugh. It’s so typical of Spencer, blaming himself for what is objectively Brendon’s fault. But Brendon doesn’t laugh. Partially because it would be rude, and partially because Spencer looks so vulnerable and hot. 

They stare at each other for a long time, neither of them wavering. Brendon knows what he wants, and he knows that Spencer wants it, too. So he goes for it. He presses his lips to Spencer’s firmly, just like he used to. And Spencer returns the kiss.

The next few seconds (or minutes, or hours, Brendon can’t tell) are a bit of a blur. It’s a haze of lips on skin and hands pulling clothes and the next thing Brendon knows, he’s laying on top of Spencer, fingers digging into his waist as Spencer pulls at Brendon’s hair. This is good. This is familiar. It’s not a fight, it’s just… giving in. Both of them giving in to each other. And then Spencer’s hand is on Brendon’s fly. Brendon grunts approval, wanting, needing that next step. And then they hear Ryan clear his throat.

Brendon is off of Spencer in half a second. Spencer’s face is red, and Brendon’s sure his face is, too. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ryan asks, his voice loud and deeper than Brendon’s ever heard. “You left the fucking door open.”

“I was just- we were- I need those drumsticks,” Spencer stammers.

“They’re not down his throat.”

“I should go.” Spencer scrambles up and practically runs out of the apartment, leaving Brendon facing Ryan alone.

“Care to explain?” Ryan asks, his voice icy.

“Do I need to?” Brendon snaps, his usual defense mechanism when he’s embarrassed. “Spencer and I have history, you know that. I don’t know why you invited him-“

“Because I thought you could keep it in your fucking pants!” Ryan shouts. “And don’t turn this around on me, you arrogant, conceited asshole.”

“I don’t know why this matters to you, anyway. I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I’m not now, and you’re a fucking idiot to think I would ever want to be.”

Brendon knows in the silence that follows that he just lied straight through his teeth. He feels like he just got caught cheating, something he’s never felt before. But he also knows that in these situations, the strongest person always gets hurt the least.

Which seems to ring true in this situation, because Ryan’s eyes are glistening and his voice breaks suspiciously when he says, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“Are you serious?” Brendon asks, panicking. This is not how he envisioned this going. Never once did he think he’d lose Ryan. He just wanted to be in control of when they fought and when they made up. He didn’t want to end things.

“Yes, I’m serious. Get out and don’t come back. I’m sick of your shit. I’m sick of fighting all the damn time because you think you’re a god. I’m sick of your games. I’m sick of you.”

Brendon gets up, slowly, feeling a lump form in his throat. But he’s not going to cry because that would give Ryan too much of an advantage. If Brendon can’t have Ryan, he just wants his pride.

Before he’s out the door, Ryan calls out to him. Brendon turns around.

“You need to stop toying with people, Brendon. People can see through your shit. Boys aren’t playthings. They’re human beings. You need to figure that out. Did you really think you could go through life being a callous asshole to the people that give a shit about you without getting hurt?” Brendon doesn’t answer. But he sees the first tear fall down Ryan’s face as he continues, “Wow, you’re a bigger douchebag than I thought. Just get out.”

And, mostly because, for the first time ever, he’s at a loss for words, Brendon does.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s okay for you to have feelings, Brendon. Even gods have feelings."

The next two weeks pass slowly with the same lazy feeling as the beginning of summer. Brendon stays at home more. His parents don’t ask about it. He starts going to Spencer’s parties again. He doesn’t stay over, though. He has a sneaking suspicion that he and Spencer are done as a couple. Spencer doesn’t ask about what happened after he left. He doesn’t go home with guys from the bar, even though he definitely could. He’s just not interested. Every time he gets close to going home with one of them, he feels something twist in his gut. It could be guilt, but he doesn't think about it long enough to make a decision. He doesn’t go to Serenity. He can’t stomach the idea of seeing Disco play ever again. 

So at the end of summer, Brendon finds himself in the same place he was a few months ago: leaning on a wall in Spencer’s basement, sipping beer, counting the seconds till 1 am. But now, he hates it.

1 comes and goes, and people start filing out. Brendon sticks behind. He doesn’t think he’ll be coming back to Spencer’s house before Spencer goes off to college and he wants to say goodbye.

Soon, it’s just him and Spencer. Spencer faces Brendon awkwardly, his cheeks flushed. “So, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to say goodbye before you left for college. No matter what, you’re one of my best friends. I really will miss you.” Brendon is surprised at his own sentimentality, but it seems like Spencer isn’t.

“Hey, man, thanks.” Spencer wraps an arm around Brendon and envelopes him in an awkward hug. “Take care of yourself, okay?” 

“Yeah.”

“No, Brendon, I mean it.” Spencer sighs before continuing, “Look, in the past two years, I haven’t allowed myself to be totally honest with you. So I’m going to be now. I know how hard you took breaking up with Ryan.”

“We didn’t-“

“If you feed me that ‘we didn’t break up because wasn’t my boyfriend’ bullshit, I will seriously deck you in the face. Because he was your boyfriend. You can waste time denying that to yourself, but it’s not healthy. It’s okay for you to have feelings, Brendon. Even gods have feelings.”

“I’m not a god,” Brendon says hollowly, echoing Ryan’s words.

“Shut up, you know you are. You will be. But stop trying to step on people to get to the top. We only want to help you. And I’m gonna help you right now. You need to talk to Ryan. You can’t live like this, going to parties you hate, drinking beer you hate, and kissing boys who don’t like the taste of your cigarettes. You need to be with him.”

“I wouldn’t even know what to say to him.”

“Can you stop with the victim complex? I’m sure he tore you a new one, but you needed the reality check. It’s totally fine to go with your tail between your legs and apologize.”

“But why would I go back? All we did was fight. That’s not a relationship.”

“Brendon, you were practically living with him. There is no way all you were doing was fighting. And fighting is normal in a relationship. It happens. It makes you better people.”

“You and I never fought.”

“We were never in a relationship,” Spencer says, and Brendon knows there’s some sadness in his voice. It actually kills Brendon to know he hurt Spencer, too. Maybe Ryan was right. Brendon needed to stop being a dick just because people would put up with it. 

“I’m sorry for all the shit I caused,” Brendon whispers. “Really.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. Now go. I think they’re playing a late set at Serenity. You can go see him there. I’ll see you when I’m back on break.”

Brendon hugs Spencer tightly and kisses him on the cheek. “You’re gonna be the drummer in my band,” he says.

“Make a band,” Spencer replies. “Then we’ll talk.”

Brendon smiles and walks up the stairs to the door. He turns around when he’s halfway up and says to Spencer, “I think I’ll go to community college. Get some credits in business or something.”

Spencer laughs. “No, you’re gonna be a rockstar.”

Brendon beams and runs out the door. He doesn’t stop smiling all the way to Serenity.

When he gets to Serenity, he stops smiling. He can hear Ryan’s voice reverberating through the room. He’s singing Camisado, and Brendon can see Pete playing the rhythm guitar (pretty badly). He hangs behind the crowd, even though he wants to be in front, he wants to feel the crowd dance along to this song that he loves so much. But he doesn’t want Ryan to see him.

Disco plays a few more songs, and one of them is new. It’s a dark, almost violent song about being cheated on, and Ryan’s whispering lyrics like “hotter touch, better fuck than any boy you’ll ever meet, sweetie you had me” and Brendon’s stomach is threatening to explode. The lyrics are kind of rough, but Brendon feels what Ryan’s trying to say, maybe because the song is about them. And everyone loves it. Every person in the room is dancing, even the guys who sell beer. It’s catchy, it’s hot, and it makes Brendon incredibly sad.

After they finish the song, Disco exits the stage and all Brendon wants to do is hide. Then, in the next second, he’s filled with resolve. He knows Ryan never hangs around after shows, except for that one occasion with him. He checks his cell phone. It’s 2:15. At this point, he knows the bus schedule. He can get to Ryan’s apartment before 3 if he goes now. So he does.

Of course, one bus is late and another breaks down so he doesn’t get to Ryan’s apartment until 3:30. But at least he knows Ryan’s home. He can hear laughing from outside the door. He considers knocking but he knows that if anyone answers the door, they’ll just close it on him. So he walks in.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just trust me on this, okay? I can make you so happy.”
> 
> “I know you can. I know.”

Ryan is in the living room, sitting on the floor with Pete and Mikey. They’re laughing at a movie on TV. Brendon clears his throat and all three of them look at him. The smiles fall off of their faces. Brendon’s starting to think this was a bad idea. But then Ryan looks at the couple and says “You guys were about to leave, right?”

Pete stares at Ryan for a few seconds before saying, “Yeah, totally.” He gets up and Mikey follows. When Pete passes Brendon on the way out, he gives him the scariest look Brendon can ever remember seeing. Then they’re out the door and Brendon and Ryan are alone. The tension could suffocate him.

“What do you need? Your stuff or something?” Ryan asks, not getting up.

“Uh, no. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Why?” Brendon asks, suddenly angry. “I saw you tonight at Serenity, I heard that song you wrote about us. I was on busses for over an hour to see you. Why don’t you want to just figure things out?”

Rather than arguing or yelling, Ryan looks at Brendon for a long time. Then he sighs. “Brendon,” he says slowly, like he’s choosing his words very carefully, “I like you. I like you so much. I’m not asking you to reciprocate. I’m asking you to respect it. Falling for you like this wasn’t something I expected or, or wanted, really. But it happened. So please, for the love of god, just leave me alone and let me get out of the hole I dug myself.”

Brendon is silent for a second before asking, “Do you think I don’t like you?”

“Not the way I like you. I want more than band practice and fucking, Brendon, and you can’t give anyone that.”

Brendon can feel Ryan’s words like knives. He doesn’t blame Ryan, really. He knows he’s been guarded. He was just hoping that Ryan could see through that.

“I want more than that, too,” Brendon says. “I want all of you. I just didn’t realize that in order to get that, I’d have to give you all of me. I want to try. I want a real relationship. With you.”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Ryan says, looking defeated.

“Why not?” Brendon asks. “I fucked up, Ry. I know that. I’m so sorry. I know things were great in the beginning. I know they could be now. Just trust me on this, okay? I can make you so happy.”

“I know you can. I know,” Ryan whispers. He moves slowly toward Brendon, and then they’re kissing, lightly, Ryan’s hand carding through Brendon’s hair. Brendon missed the way Ryan’s lips feel on him, the way their bodies melt into one, the way he can taste every emotion on Ryan’s mouth.

Brendon pulls away and whispers desperately, “I’ll never let you go ever again, Ry.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Ryan laughs. “Just come to bed with me. I’m tired.”

They hold hands on the way to Ryan’s room. Ryan pulls off his shirt and gets in bed, and Brendon does the same, kind of disappointed that Ryan actually meant that he was going to bed. But when they get settled in, Ryan kisses Brendon hard, his hands exploring Brendon’s torso, and Brendon takes this as a cue to climb on top of Ryan.

Ryan responds by moaning lightly and pushing his hips against Brendon’s. Brendon smiles into the kiss and runs a hand down Ryan’s side. Ryan throws his hands around Brendon’s neck and pulls away to breathe, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Brendon says, his mouth meeting Ryan’s cheek, then his jaw, then his neck. He drags his lips to Ryan’s collar bone, drawing a light moan from him. Brendon smiles and bites into Ryan’s skin, sucking a little, wanting to mark him, to make a statement that Ryan is his. Ryan tangles his fingers in Brendon’s hair in response. “Brendon, fuck me. Fuck me, please.”

“Right now?” Brendon asks. He wants this to last a little while. He wants to take every second he can learning Ryan all over again.

But Ryan whispers, “I’ve wanted you so much ever since you left. I don’t know if I can last another minute without you.” And that’s all the convincing Brendon needs.

He quickly pulls off his own jeans before tugging Ryan’s off. He reaches for the lube and condoms, but as he begins to open the wrapper, Ryan stops him. “You’re clean, right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Brendon responds. “Why?”

“I mean… I want… I just want it to be us.”

It takes Brendon a second to understand. “So you don’t want to use a condom.”

“No. Is that okay?”

“Yes. God, yes. It’s great.” Brendon slicks himself up and settles between Ryan’s legs. He realizes he’s breathing really heavily. He tries to steady himself as he pushes into Ryan, but Ryan’s hot and so tight and his breath hitches almost immediately, and Brendon gives up trying to breathe normally, because all he can think about is this.

Ryan is staring up at Brendon, and Brendon is staring back, and their gazes are so intense that it takes a few seconds for either of them to realize that Brendon’s not moving. Ryan lets him know by pushing down on Brendon’s cock, and Brendon gets the idea. He begins thrusting, slowly, wanting to make sure this lasts as long as humanly possible. He really has to work to avoid going any faster, though, and when Ryan starts begging him for more, he just gives up and starts pushing into Ryan as fast and hard as he can, urged on by Ryan’s whispered “Yeah”s and “Right there”s.

Soon, Ryan lifts himself up slightly and breathes, “Kiss me,” and of course Brendon can’t refuse that, so he does, his tongue tangling with Ryan’s. Every inch of him feels electric, hypersensitive, like it would burn if Ryan touched him. And then Ryan runs his hands up Brendon’s sides and drags his nails down his back, and Brendon thrusts hard onto Ryan’s prostate, loving the way Ryan’s hands feel, craving the sound of Ryan yelling his name. Suddenly, it’s not sweet anymore. It’s hard and desperate and it’s everything they’ve never said spilling out in the space between them, spoken in the rise and fall of their chests and every stroke of Ryan’s prostate. The noises coming from Ryan and the grunts escaping Brendon’s mouth are a different kind of music, one that Brendon really prefers to Disco. He likes it when it’s just him and Ryan, figuring out ways to say the things they need to say.

Brendon starts working Ryan, knowing from the whimpers and the look in his eye that he’s going to come soon. It only takes a few strokes and just the right twist of his wrist for Ryan to come over Brendon’s hand. That’s more than enough for Brendon, and he comes, his climax making his vision cloudy, causing his body to shake. His arms suddenly become too weak and he collapses onto Ryan. He has to catch his breath before he can pull out and clean himself off.

“I missed that,” Ryan whispers.

“I missed you,” Brendon replies, snaking an arm around Ryan’s waist and kissing him on the nose.

“This better not be a one-night thing,” Ryan says firmly. “Because if you’re still an asshole, I will kick you out again.”

“I think ‘asshole’ is just a trait of mine,” Brendon admits. “But I’ll never be an asshole to you. At least, I’ll try.”

“Good. Because I don’t have asshole boyfriends.” Brendon tenses at the word, and Ryan continues, “Oh get over it, Urie. You’re my boyfriend. I’ve called you. Let the rest of the male population weep for their loss.”

Brendon laughs. “You’re the only guy who’s ever called me out on my shit.”

“That’s why we’re perfect together,” Ryan says, nuzzling Brendon’s neck. And Brendon can’t help thinking that Ryan’s right.

“Hey, so, Pete kind of sucks on guitar. Can I please come back to the band?” Brendon asks.

“Are you mixing business with pleasure?”

“Maybe.”

Ryan sighs. “Okay, you can come back. And I’ll let you sing lead on a few songs. I wrote that song about us with your voice in mind. I can’t do it justice. Oh, and we’re changing our name.”

“To what?”

“Panic! At The Disco. With an exclamation point. It’s a compromise.”

Brendon likes the sound of it. In fact, he loves it. “It’s awesome,” he says. “A compromise.” The first of many, he hopes. "Maybe we could add synth to some of the songs."

"We are not talking about this at 4:30 in the morning." Ryan presses his body closer to Brendon. “Now let me go to sleep. I’m pretty sure I see the beginnings of the sunrise through the window. We can stay in bed and talk tomorrow.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Brendon?”

“Yeah, Ry?”

“I’m glad we have tomorrow.”

Brendon smiles and kisses Ryan’s forehead. They do have tomorrow. And infinite tomorrows afterward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all! Yay! I hope you guys enjoyed it, I liked writing it a lot. Your comments are the best!
> 
> Disclaimers: I don't own any of this and it's all fake. No girlfriends exist, obviously. I know that this isn't canon at all in terms of how the band was formed how they met, etc etc, but oh well. Artistic license and shizzzzz.
> 
> Y'all are the bomb, thanks for reading! <3 <3


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